


That Kind Of Gal

by becisvolatile



Series: Darcy Lewis Smut Week Challenge 2013 [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abuse of flat-pack furniture, Captain America Ain't Got No Moves, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, virgin!steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 21:32:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becisvolatile/pseuds/becisvolatile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>IKEA coffee tables were not built to withstand the passions of a super-soldier</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Kind Of Gal

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day Three of the Darcy Lewis Smut Week Challenge. It's a little on the late side, but, hey, I do what I want. Today's prompt was 'locked in'.
> 
> And while we're discussing 'doing what I want' I know Virgin!Steve isn't exactly a beloved trope for a lot of people, but virgin Alpha males happen to be on my long, long, list of favoured kinks. So, yeah. I do what I want.
> 
> Enjoy!

"Ma'am," Steve wearily passed his hand through his hair, "I'm going to have to ask you to sit down." _For the fiftieth time today._

"Yeah?" Darcy Lewis crossed her arms and tilted her head to narrow her eyes at him, "Well, dude, I asked you to let me go eight hours ago and that hasn't happened, so it looks like neither of us is getting our way tonight." 

"Ma'am, Director Fury has explained this several times. Until Thor can be located neither you nor Miss Foster can be released." 

"I'm guessing America has changed a little since your heyday, but you can't hold someone against their will." 

Steve felt that tick return to his jaw, not for the first time that day. "Yes, I believe you said something to that effect the first time that you tased me." 

"Kudos with that, by the way, Clint was down for _much_ longer." 

Which was why Steve was now on babysitting duty, because Clint was refusing and where Clint went so too did Natasha. Banner wasn't a likely candidate since Miss Lewis pedalled aggravation as though it was her life's ambition and Fury had expressly forbidden Stark from further influencing her (after that incident at the Christmas party). So, really, it was down to him. 

Usually, he felt that SHIELD paid him an exorbitant amount for simply doing his duty, but that day he felt that he earned every cent of his wage. 

She dropped herself onto the sofa with a huff. "Can I see Jane?" 

"She's working with some... artefacts that we've located. You aren't cleared to-" 

"I'm her intern! I'm cleared for this -" 

"The answer is no." 

"You were nicer in your comics." Steve nearly choked a a she crossed her arms across her middle, thrusting her chest up to his gaze. So few women still had curves like Miss Lewis and while he'd been frozen for decades, he was still very much a hot blooded male. The skirt didn't help matters, it was denim and it was brief - thus its talking points were exhausted. Not that it mattered, he mentally shook himself, his job was to keep her calm and compliant. Or as near to compliant as a woman like Miss Lewis was capable of being. 

"Thor will come for Miss Foster and you'll be free to leave." 

"Yeah, about that," she propped her feet up onto his coffee table, "Thor is sort of dealing with some Asgardian stuff right now." 

Steve sat on the other end of the sofa and crossed his arms, he arched an eyebrow in askance. 

"Seriously, the big guy has a family that makes the Kardashians look functional." 

"I know who the Kardashians are," he said slowly. 

"Yeah, sorry about that, we've kind of dropped the ball on entertainment these last few years." 

Steve nodded solemnly, he'd caught some reruns of _Toddlers and Tiaras_ , he was well aware of how dire the entertainment scene had become. So that ruled out TV as a possible source of diversion for her. They'd already run through the last season of _Game of Thrones_. Well, Darcy had, some of the scenes were so blue that Steve had felt compelled to leave the room for a cup of coffee. Several cups of coffee, actually. Later, she'd screwed her nose up at his suggestion that they play with a deck of cards and since they'd already worked their way through an order of Thai and pizzas, he didn't think that food would hold much appeal for her either. Really, he was running out of ways to keep her entertained. 

Well, completely discarding her suggestion that he demonstrate his push-up technique. Shirtless. 

Steve was almost certain that she'd been joking about that. 

But then she made a lot of jokes like that and he'd spent the last few hours feeling uncomfortable, not because of the way she was pushing his buttons, but because of the way almost everything in his body was telling him to push back. 

Not that he was all that adept at the 'pushing'. His most recent encounter was more than half a century ago and didn't extend past a brief, messy, handjob in a cloakroom. 

There had been the pretty waitress in New York, the one who'd breathlessly pressed herself against him and thanked him, then offered to _thank_ him. He'd wanted to accept her offer, badly, but he knew that the wheels of propaganda were as relentless now as they'd been all those years ago. He hadn't much fancied the idea of some tawdry tabloid promising an inside scoop on 'My Night With Captain America'. 

And then there was Darcy, who never seemed to shut up, yet still knew how to keep her mouth closed. It was one of the reasons that SHIELD only occasionally pulled her into their chokehold, as opposed to keeping her under permanent supervision. 

Well, that and because she required a lot of manpower to keep happy. Darcy was known for driving lesser SHIELD agents to take stress leave and had been cited as a key motivator for one of their more senior interrogating officer's decision to retire and take up emu farming in Australia. Steve's eyes slid sideways again and he found them dropping to her legs. She had what he'd like to call 'nice pins', but the phrase was dated and hardly gentlemanly. 

Not that he was feeling like much of a gentleman. He shifted in his seat as his mind slowly churned toward a goal. 

He wanted to seduce Darcy Lewis. Quite badly. 

Not that he had the first idea how to go about it. He didn't exude charm like Stark. Thor had once 'gifted' him with (unbidden) advice on how to woo maidens. Well, not so much _advice_ as direction to lift heavy things while shirtless. 

And while Steve could rise to almost any occasion, he just didn't see any scenario in which removing his shirt and bench pressing his sofa seemed called for. Darcy snagged the remote and scrolled through the channels before settling on a cartoon channel, she toed off her flats and propped her feet onto his coffee table. Crimson-tipped toes wiggled in time with the opening credits. 

He shuffled along the sofa, just a few inches. Good grief, had it always been that long? 

Steve froze for a few horrid, _horrid_ moments. Now what? He'd already shifted once, twice would be obvious. At this rate he'd be within touching distance by... Oh, Christmas? His eyes zeroed in on a water bottle on the coffee table. Genius. 

He scooted closer to snag the water, then threw back a mouthful. Of course that part was just for show and, as such, he sort of forgot the swallowing part. Water just dribbled from his unreceptive mouth, dropping to his T-shirt and sticking it to his chest in patches. Charming. 

Steve darted a quick glance at Darcy, who was either being polite and ignoring his mishap or _really_ liked the... karate turtle show. She looked stunning in side profile, her hair framed her face and contrasted her skin so perfectly that she pretty much glowed. Her red lips her parted just so and she seemed forever on the brink of some smart-mouthed comment or a smirk. It was the sort of mouth that made a guy think of kissing. 

The next time he lifted the water bottle he missed his mouth completely. 

Oh, man, was he messing it all up. 

Steve panicked and that same instinct that drove him to dive onto live grenades and jump out of planes without a parachute kicked in and suddenly - as if it were some awful out of body experience - he found himself whipping his shirt up and over his head. Sometimes you just had to throw yourself into the thick of it and hope you didn't lose any body parts. 

His nerves didn't hold out much beyond that though and he found himself just sort of sitting there, wringing his wet shirt in his hands and starring down at it in horror. 

Good Lord, what had he done?! 

Darcy slowly withdrew her bare feet from the coffee table, she turned to look at him, those perfect lips frozen into a silent 'o'. She reached out to poke a single pink-tipped finger at his tensed chest. 

He really didn't think he could look at her. 

"Cap? Didja lose something?" She poked him again. Twice. 

Yes, he had lost something. 

His damn mind. 

"I... water. It's wet." He lamely held up the shirt. 

He could have sworn Darcy muttered something suspiciously like 'not yet, but it's getting there'. 

Her fingertip gave another tentative jab at his pectoral, then stayed there, just an inch above his nipple. He found the strength to lift his eyes to hers. They narrowed in suspicion. 

"You up to something, Cap?" 

"Er, no Ma'am." He briefly considered just lifting the sofa so that it drew him out of the awkward scene he'd created for himself. 

He didn't think he'd moved at all, but he must have shifted closer because this time when Darcy turned back to the television, the soft ends of her hair brushed against his nipple and her thigh was flush with his own. Funny thing was, he couldn't tell if it was lust or embarrassment, but if he didn't channel his nervous energy into something he was going to _expire_ from the force of it. 

He made a show of yawning and lifted his arm up into the air before dropping to down along the back of the sofa... and behind Darcy's back. Even he, with his limited exposure to winning over ladies, knew that the move was a classic. He was actually quite pleased with himself. Stark could even learn a thing or two for- 

"Yo, super-solider-who-hardly-sleeps-and-has-an-incredibly-efficient-respiratory-system-and-presumably-doesn't-need-to-yawn," Darcy jabbed an elbow into his side. "I saw what you did there." 

Steve immediately tried to draw his arm back to his side. Unfortunately, his watch (a Swiss monstrosity that Stark had given him for his birthday) had become entangled in Darcy's hair. She made a grab for her hair to ease the tension. "Christ! Are you trying to scalp me?!" 

He panicked. A hard yank had him drawing his wrist into his lap and, with it, Darcy's head. At that moment she seemed to be the only one with any sense (he supposed pain had a way of crystallising things). She clawed her nails into his thigh and reached up blindly to still his wrist. "Right," she snapped with her face smooshed up against his thigh, "I'm going to stay down here. You're going to untangle that mess." 

Great plan. Except that Steve felt his focus dividing. Her cheek was pressed up against him. Rather intimately. It only seemed to compound his humiliation that a) he'd so utterly botched his seduction and b) there was no way she'd be able to miss the hard length of his cock running parallel to her cheek. At best she'd think him a creep who got hard at the sight of a bit of thigh. At worst, she'd figure out that this super-soldier had all the restraint of a teenager. 

His pulse kicked up briefly as he thought of the taser. Coulson had confiscated that, hadn't he? 

"I don't feel a whole lot of untangling going on." 

He practically swallowed his tongue as her mouth brushed across the head of his cock. Even through the fabric of his trousers he felt her heated breath on him as though he were naked. 

He'd been told to babysit Darcy, but so far he'd just harassed and tortured her. 

By the time he'd managed to muster enough coordination to free her hair he was absolutely miserable, not to mention so hard that he was cross-eyed with need. He considered just letting her go free, anything to end the embarrassment that he'd brought down on his own head. 

His knuckles turned white as he clenched them and pressed them hard against his thighs, he would have sat on his hands to keep them from getting ideas if it wouldn't have been painfully obvious. 

This time, when she stood, he didn't tell her to sit down. She just moved between his knees and the coffee table to stare down at him. "Steve?" 

"Unh." His tongue felt really thick as his eyes moved up her legs and to her face. 

"You wouldn't happen to be putting the moves on me, would you?" 

His answer was less a nonchalant shrug and more of a muscular convulsion. Apparently social grace was not among the benefits of the serum. 

"Why Captain!" Darcy crossed her arms and her breasts elevated themselves to somewhere in the stratosphere. "I'm shocked! I'm not that kind of gal." 

Steve had the good grace to look ashamed, he dropped his focus to his hands and swallowed hard. It seemed that not matter how many years passed, no matter how much _he_ had changed, women would always be a mystery to him. 

Several long moments passed, Steve's gaze burning holes into his knees and then... 

... One slim little foot neatly slipped over his knee, wriggled beneath his hand and up along his thigh. He jumped and looked up to find Darcy perched on the edge of the coffee table, her lovely legs lifted as she slipped her feet into his lap. 

"I'm shitting you," she said with a lopsided grin. "I'm _totally_ that kind of gal." 

And, apparently, she was. Her left foot slid along his trousers, tracing the length of his cock, she flexed her toes and Steve had to make a desperate grab for her to stop his hips bucking up off the sofa. 

"I, uh," he followed her legs all the way up, "Okay. Okay. Swell." 

_Swell?!_ His apology for the woefully dated phraseology died on his lips as his gaze caught somewhere around her thighs. With her feet in his lap and that blessedly inadequate skirt, Steve was treated to one of the loveliest sights he'd ever seen. Darcy's knees were parted just so and high between her legs he caught sight of a small triangle of pink silk. 

He tried to do the right thing, tried to focus on her knee as his hand flexed around her persistent foot. It was a valiant effort that lasted all of three seconds. In that moment his whole universe had shrunk to that brief triangle of silk and what lay behind it. 

"You could," he paused and ran his thumb up along the curve of her ankle, "you could say no." 

She snorted at that, then shimmied her skirt a little further up her hips, leaving him in no doubt about whether or not she minded him looking. 

"The serum," his hand was up to her calf, "You know it doesn't make me good at _everything_?" It seemed that the least he could do, without giving away his utter lack of experience, was let her know that he might not be able to deliver some sort of paroxysm of pleasure. 

"Don't worry, Cap," slim fingers slipped between her legs as her knees fell wider, "I got this." 

The pink silk beneath her busy fingers grew wet and transparent as she played and stroked at herself. Steve wanted to touch himself too, wanted to follow her down whatever wicked path she chose to lead him. 

"Now ain't the time to be shy, Cap," Darcy coaxed as she finally tugged her knickers aside to reveal her sweet pink pussy. He wasn't surprised to find her bare, not since Natasha had slipped him a tablet with a huffy 'If you don't plan on dating you might want to check out some of the sites bookmarked on this'. 

Clumsy fingers fumbled with the fly of his trousers, he wasn't sure if she'd be turned off if he seemed to keen, but it seemed like Darcy Lewis was the sort of girl who liked a good game of 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours...' Steve lifted his hips as he slid his pants and shorts down to his knees. His cock bounced free, curving eagerly up against his abdomen and seeping precum. 

He brushed his thumb over the crown, gathering the beaded moisture and circling his sensitive flesh. 

He pitched forward off the sofa and onto his knees, Darcy kept her feet propped up either side of his hips as he leaned forward, his face closing in to hers, hovering. 

Her smile was soft and weirdly comforting, "You are a shy one aren't you?" Her free hand wrapped around the back of his neck and hauled him in so that she could suck his bottom lip in between her teeth. As kisses went, it was a lot less polished than any he'd had before. Relief swamped him as he simply opened his mouth and let her have her way. 

Not that he had any plans of leaving everything to Darcy. As she devoured his mouth he took the opportunity to reach down and stroke the scorching wet silk between her legs. She felt so hot that he briefly wondered if she wasn't superhuman herself. Eager mobile hips pumped against his palm and suddenly her own hand was there, fitting itself along his and guiding his fingers to circle her clit. She moaned into his mouth as he tentatively slipped his tongue against her own. 

She led him then, his finger flush against her own and slipping into her tight, soaked, pussy. His cock gave an impatient jerk as he realised how wet she was. Nothing could have been sexier to him than the realisation that it was _him_ that she was wet for. _Him_ that she wanted seated deep within her body. Their fingers pumped a little more urgently as his thumb zeroed in on her clit. A heavy sigh passed from her lips to his, one foot dragged up along his thigh and came to rest curved around his hip. Her shift in posture tilted her hips back and opened her to him, Steve looked down to their glistening fingers and dropped his head his face into her neck with a groan. 

"You need something, Cap?" Darcy might have sounded cocky if she wasn't so short of breath. 

"Please," he muttered against her throat as he nudged her cardigan open with his nose. "Please let me..." He got distracted then, using his teeth to tug down her tank top and nuzzling at her generous breasts. God, how he loved breasts. Truth, honour, integrity and freedom were great. But breasts... Oh, they were something else entirely. He reached up to yank down the cups of her bra, freeing her breasts for his mouth. Her fully nipples tightened under his tongue, peaking up as if responding to _just him_. 

His shoulders and chest started to quake with need and his mind jumped from place to place, wanting him to be everywhere and do everything all at once. 

"Hey, soldier," her voice was gentle in his ear and she drew their hands from between her legs and came up to cradle his face, "Wanna get down to it?" 

He launched at her with an eagerness that proved two things. One, Darcy Lewis had the patience and understanding of a saint (a foul-mouthed saint) and, two, IKEA coffee tables were not built to withstand the passion of a super-soldier. 

By the time he had Darcy clear of the debris of the coffee table and on her back, his stomach was rippling with exertion and his cock was practically _aching_ to be inside of her. She reached out, her hands grasping at his hips and drawing him forward until... Well, his cock sort of glanced off the inside of her thigh. She reached down then, gripping him, giving him a few slick strokes before guiding him to exactly where he wanted to be. Steve surged forward with a low dip of the hips, the fat head of his cock pressing bluntly against her for the slightest second before her sweet, wet pussy opened for him and he was driving deep into her. 

He'd like to say that things got better after that, that his masculine instincts kicked in and his genetic superiority won out, ensuring that his performance was nothing short of stellar, smooth and epic. 

What actually happened was a desperate, eager, stilted sort of _fucking_ that was vocally, lewdly and wholeheartedly encouraged by the lush, wild, little woman beneath him. Darcy clawed at his shoulders and as he looked down at her flushed face he was floored to find her arched up, utterly guileless and so very clearly in the throes of an orgasm. 

All at once he felt as if someone had set his spine on fire, his hips pumped and a weight settled low in his gut. He went mad for a few moments, amazed that she could feel too tight, even while he strived to move deeper within her. Steve drew back for a few quick shallow thrusts before driving forward, spine bowed as he emptied himself mindlessly into her, coming in hot, pulsing, messy jets. 

When he regained some hold on reality he found himself flopped bonelessly on top of Darcy. Her fingertips traced lazy circles over his arse, while her mouth nipped occasionally at his nipple. He knew he had to be crushing her soft, warm body and braced his weight up on surprisingly weakened arms. He slipped down her body, enjoying the slide of his chest against her full breasts as he went. If she was bothered by the lewd noise that their bodies made as they disengaged, or the mess that they'd made of each other, she didn't say so. 

Steve finally took a second to kick his shoes and pants off and stole a peek at Darcy as she stretched like a particularly contented cat. He blushed then, not because of what they'd done, but because she was there, clothes simply pushed aside haphazardly, skirt up to her hips and knickers still hauled half aside. He really hadn't been a smooth operator, he'd fallen on her and pawed at her with little concern as to what she might want, or even like. She was hardly likely to agree to a do-over when he'd treated her so poorly the first time. 

"I'll get, uh, towels," he cupped himself then, suddenly overcome with a bout of modesty. 

Darcy cracked a single eye and smirked. "Or you could just take me to bed." 

"Back to bed?" 

Darcy tugged her knickers down, wiggling her legs as she kicked them free. "Surely there has to be some perks to sleeping with a super-soldier?" She shrugged out of her cardigan and pulled her top off. "What's the standard recovery time? Fifteen minutes?" She reached back to unfasten her bra, then let it slip down her arms. 

Steve crossed back to Darcy's side, crouching down to gather her up into his arms. 

"Five minutes," he said with a determined nod, " _Tops._ "

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure you're all smart enough to know this, but just in case:
> 
> Just because Captain America enjoys both jumping out of planes and having sex unprotected doesn't mean you should too. Wrap it before you rock it, kids.


End file.
